


Never Backtalk

by KPfan1013



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KPfan1013/pseuds/KPfan1013
Summary: Kim back talks to her father for the first time and refuses to do the dishes, landing herself in a heap of trouble.
Relationships: Kim Possible & Ron Stoppable
Kudos: 2





	1. Uh oh

"Hey, Mom and Dad," Jim began. "Can we be excused?"

"We're running a timed experiment, and we have to go log the readings," Tim explained.

James chuckled. "Ah, I love a scientist's commitment to evenly timed data logs. Go ahead, boys."

The twins eagerly scrambled out of their seats to the front yard, where Kim recalled seeing a controlled yet open flame on her way into the house earlier.

"Well, if the boys are heading off, I'll take my leave too. I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow," Anne said as she got up. She dropped a kiss onto Kim's hair and James' cheek before departing the room, leaving father and daughter sitting diagonally from each other at a full dining table of dishes, serving plates, and cups at various levels of full.

James dabbed at his mouth with a paper towel and announced, "Kimmie-cub, I'm placing you in charge of clean-up." He gave a jaunty little salute as he got up from the table.

Kim laughed good naturedly, but she trailed off awkwardly at James' raised eyebrow. "Wait, by myself?"

James' eyes darted side to side, unsure if Kim was joking. "Is there another Kimmie-cub to whom I could be referring?" he asked, letting a little bit of humour slide into his voice.

Kim's eyebrows furrowed. "Why just me? The tweebs aren't doing anything."

Kim turned her body to keep facing her dad as James graciously placed his own dishes in the sink. He said, "You know if we let the twins do it, our dishwasher will be converted into a superpowered house cleaning android in time for breakfast."

"But they can help!"

"Come on, Kimmie-cub. Just do the dishes."

"This is ferociously unfair, Dad!" Kim argued as she got out of her seat and more fully faced her father. "I didn't eat all the food by myself, so I shouldn't have to clean it up by myself."

James frowned. This was turning into more than a hassle than it really should have been. "By that logic, you shouldn't have helped eat the food since you didn't help make it," he pointed out. "Please just do as I ask and clean up after dinner?"

"Sure, if you had asked it. You just told me what to do." She punctuated the end of her sentence with firm hands planted on her hips and a challenging lean.

James stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but he couldn't help the heavy sigh. "Can you please clean up after dinner, Kimme-cub?"

Kim crossed her arms and turned her head away. "Well, now I don't want to since you're just saying that."

Now James was angry. "Kimberly, I don't know where this childish attitude is coming from, but I certainly don't appreciate it one iota. You may be a crime-fighting heroine out in the real world; but under my roof, you're my daughter who does her chores," he stated firmly, taking care not to raise his voice too much. "I'm going to the living room to read a book; and by the time I go to bed, those dishes better be spotless!"

"I don't think so," Kim announced before her dad could walk away. She started gathering her things as quickly as she could. "I think I'll spend some time out in the real world where people treat me with a little more respect."

She dodged out the house before James could even bring himself out of the frustrated stupor she placed him in. On her way to the street, she passed by Jim and Tim. "Dad needs help cleaning up after dinner," she threw over her shoulder. "Help him clean up his attitude while you're at it."

The twins watched as Kim walked down the road to, presumably, Ron's house. As one, they looked down at their timer, noting they had 36 minutes until the next log. They turned to each other.

"Jim, what if…"

"We turn the dishwasher into an automatic dinner-cleaning robot real quick then get back to our experiment?"

"Hicka bicka boo."

"Hoo shah!"

* * *

The sound of Anne's morning routine gently roused James from slumber the next morning. "Honey? What time is it?" he called out with a groggy voice.

"Just a little before 7, dear," came the distant-sounding reply.

James made a noncommittal noise as he stretched in bed, relishing in the latent warmth of his bedsheets and the scent of Anne's honey-lemon shampoo wafting in from the en-suite bathroom.

"How's hashbrowns and scrambled eggs for breakfast sound?" he asked as he tugged on his blue striped house robe.

"Delicious!"

James walked down to the kitchen, taking care to start the coffee maker first before grabbing a whisk for the eggs. As he set about making breakfast, he could hear the early morning sounds of his children waking up and getting ready. He frowned as he remembered last night.

"Smells good, James," Anne sing-songed as she stepped into the kitchen, preparing mugs of coffee just the way she and her husband liked them.

"Do you know if anything's wrong with Kimmie-cub?" he asked, apropos of nothing.

Anne hummed as she set the table. "She and Ron are going strong, her highway cleanup event went swimmingly, and Bonnie missed the last cheerleading practise due to the flu… So as far as I know, she's doing fabulous. Why do you ask?"

James regaled the events from last night. "And I plum don't know what to do about it," he ended as he plated the food.

Anne's frown only deepened as the story progressed. "That certainly doesn't sound like Kimmie. I'm sure she had a good reason for it, though."

"What reasons are there for unnecessary back talk and blatant disrespect for your father, Anne?" James contended.

Anne glanced at the clock hanging above the stove and was shocked into movement. "I'll look into it, dear," she said as she kissed her husband on the cheek and packed some of her breakfast to-go. "Try not to rehash the same argument over breakfast, okay? I have a peripheral nerve injury at 8:30. Love you!"

Anne's concern for rehashing the argument at breakfast were ultimately unfounded.

"It's so nice for you to join us for breakfast, Kim!" Jean said as she laid down avocados, chicken sausage, and toast in front of the teen. 'I don't think I've shared a meal with you at this table since 2001!"

Kim grinned bashfully. "Sorry about that, Mrs. Stoppable. I'll make more of an effort to come around," she promised.

"Don't listen to my wife, Kim," Gene said. "We've saved so much money since we stopped having to feed Ronald and Rufus for breakfast!"

"Hey!" "Hey!" "Hey!"

Kim laughed at Ron and Rufus' objections and the sight of Gene rubbing his sore side as Jean looked on disapprovingly. The rest of breakfast was similarly familial, and Kim wondered to herself why she didn't hang out at Ron's more often.

As Kim and Ron walked to school, the conversation eventually swung back to Kim's spat with her dad.

"And this isn't even the first time he's let the tweebs off the hook for chores!" Kim ranted. "You know, I've never worried about favourites before—my parents are usually so good at treating us all equally—but sometimes I feel like Dad just has a soft spot for the twins since they actually took up an interest in rocket science. Still, that's not a good explanation for letting them slack off on chores and then making me pick up that slack!"

"I don't know, KP," Ron worried. "There's only so much rebellion a parent can take from a kid. One day, you refuse to do the housework; and the next day, they adopt a whole other child so that they can fox all the parenting mistakes they made on you and produce a functioning member of society!" Rufus nodded along worriedly.

Kim cut her eyes at her boyfriend. "I don't think my parents plan on adopting a fourth child just to get someone to wash the dishes. And honestly, I wouldn't have minded doing all that if Dad had just asked nicely. Or offered to help himself. Either one really, without me having to point that stuff out to him."

Ron could tell how much this was really affecting his girlfriend, so he wrapped a comforting arm around her. "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't done the dishes a day in my life."

Kim laughed as she playfully pushed him away. "That's such a lie."

Ron easily slid back into place beside her. "Yeah, but it made you smile."


	2. Things Get Worse

Shego a single interested eyebrow at the piece of paper slipped over her Are You a Drakken or a Dementor? quiz in her issue of Villainess Biweekly. The contents weren't all that interesting—well, she assumed so as she hadn't bothered reading it yet—but the fact that someone dared entered her personal space at all was enough to pique her interest.

"What's this?" she asked without sparing a glance at the paper's contents.

"Just a little list of things I need you to pick up on your next outing," Drakken's voice said from faraway. She raised her eyes above the magazine to find Drakken had already begun walking back towards his side of the lair.

A quick scan revealed that in between things like hyperflux reactors from MIST's Hardaway School of Physics and negatron binds from ColTech's Center of Antigravity, there were chicken breasts and tomatoes.

Shego furrowed her eyebrows. "Doc, what's this about?"

He immediately put down his tools, excited that Shego seemed to actively demonstrate interest in one of his schemes. "Remember how rude the citizens of Joplin, Missouri were when I mispronounced 'Missouri?'"

She waved a bored hand as she got up and walked closer to him. "Yeah, yeah. I remember. But the groceries? I'm your sidekick, not your errand boy."

Drakken honest-to-God pouted, and she wondered—not for the first time—why she bothered being a sidekick to that embarrassment in the first place. "You'll be out anyway! Can't you, please? What's a little petty theft in the grand larceny scheme of things?"

Shego angrily picked up the offending grocery list and shook it angrily at Drakken. "Stealing groceries is so far below my paygrade!"

"At least you're getting paid!" Drakken tried to ameliorate the situation.

"Again, to be a sidekick," she reminded as she casually flicked the ashes of the burnt-up paper off her gloves.

"Nghhhhhh," Drakken vocalised. "Shego, why do you always do this? I know I like us to be an evil family, but I'm still your boss," he whined.

He went quiet after that, and Shego retreated to her lounger once again. She remembered the evil parts of the list easily enough; she'll get them after sunset.

"If you don't want to follow my instructions, then… then maybe I shouldn't be your boss anymore," he finally murmured.

Shego snorted as she circled an answer in her quiz. "What? Are you quitting?"

"Shego, you're fired."

She snapped her head up to find Drakken looking as serious as she'd ever seen him. "What? Are you kidding?!"

"If you recall the contract you signed, I am an at-will employer," he responded in an even tone, eyes trained on his fingers to avoid her gaze. "You have until the end of the business day to empty your dorm of your items. I'll have one of the synthodrones escort you out when you're done."

Drakken looked up to see disbelief writ all over his former employee's face before quickly turning around, scurrying out of the main room with a fearful yet somber gait.

Shego felt a sinking feeling in her gut but ignored it. Drakken was obviously off his rocker today; no way did he actually mean to fire her.

After reading the same sentence in her magazine three times, Shego found herself already walking to her dorm. I'm just going to use the bathroom, she rationalised to herself. I'll get there, and it'll be supremely obvious that Doc was just stupid.

Right beside the entrance to her room, a synthodrone was stationed patiently. A trolley and several cardboard boxes rested on the wall beside him.

He was serious, she realised. A weird mix of shame, incredulity, and sadness welled up within her, and she responded the only way she knew how.

She blasted the synthodrone's head off without remorse. The chartreuse goo splattered on the wall did nothing to make her feel better.

She angrily dragged the boxes inside to start packing up her things, grumbling curses in as many languages as she knew to quiet the storm inside.

* * *

By the time dinner rolled around that night, the Possible family had settled at the dining room sans one.

"Where's Kimmie-cub?" James asked.

Jim piped up, "She'll be late. She and Ron were called on a mission midway through the school day."

"According to Wade, their flight back lands soon at TriCity Airport," Tim said while checking his personal communication device.

Anne's mind whirred as she thought. "Tell Wade I'll go pick them up," she announced lightly. "Don't worry about us; you boys can start eating," she called over her shoulder as she packed her purse.

At the airport, Anne found Kim, Ron, and Rufus already waiting at the arrivals gate.

"I forget how much it sucks to have to go through the arrivals gate with the rest of the non-world-savers," Ron complained. Rufus popped out of Ron's pocket and blew a raspberry in agreement with his human's complaint.

"We do look kinda out of place in our mission gear," Kim said in a conciliatory tone before turning to her mom. "Thanks for picking us up, Mom."

"It's not a problem, Kimmie. Consider it my contribution to the team," Anne answered with a smile.

The ride home was occupied mostly with Ron's exaggerated retelling of the mission ("There wasn't that much sand, Ron." "Speak for yourself, Kim. I have sand in places where sand should never be." "TMI!"). After dropping off Ron and Rufus, the car was a lot quieter.

Anne pulling to the side of the road and cutting the engine only amplified the silence.

"What's the sitch, Mom?" Kim asked after a beat.

"So… I heard about last night. Why would you talk to your father like that?" Anne asked disapprovingly over Kim's groan.

"The tweebs were just in the yard, Mom, yet I'm the only one dad said to clean up? There's no equality! You guys raised me to stand up against what isn't fair—you let me travel all over the world to do that for other people—but when I do it at home, I get in trouble?"

Anne hmmed after Kim finished. "I see your point, Kimmie, but what you did was also very rude. We certainly didn't raise you to be rude."

Kim mumbled something that almost sounded like, "Yeah, you didn't."

"You should apologise to your father."

Kim pouted. "I'll apologise when he does."

Anne placed a comforting yet firm hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Your pride may be stopping you right now; but sometimes, it's not just about being right. I'm sure after you apologise, he'll also realise what he did wrong."

Kim tapped her foot anxiously on the floor of the car, and Anne started the car again knowing that her daughter would come around by the time they got home.

When they settled back down on the kitchen table, only James and the remnants of the twin's meals were left.

Anne went to reheat her and Kim's portions with a meaningful look directed towards Kim. Kim took a deep breath as if she was about to face off against one of Senor Senior, Sr.'s spinning tops of doom.

"Dad, I'm sorry about last night," she said lowly, keeping her eyes on the table instead of on her dad.

James smiled with satisfaction. "Aw, thanks, Kimmie-cub. I'm sorry, too."

Kim looked up to give her dad a grin just as Anne came back with their dinners. James had already finished eating, but he elected to stay and talk with his favourite girls about their days.

Afterward, Kim asked to be excused so she could change out of her mission gear.

"Of course, Kimmie-cub! Just make sure to come back and clean up."

Kim stiffened just as Anne did. "Dad, are we seriously back on this?" Kim asked, frustrated.

"We never got off it, darling," James responded. "I asked you to clean up after dinner the other night, and you refused. I'm asking you again now."

"But you're not, though!" Kim shot back. "You're not asking. You're telling me what to do, and you're treating me like a little kid while you're at it!"

"Well, when you stop acting like one, I'll stop treating you like one," James retorted.

Kim let herself shriek with frustration, curling into claws as she did so. She turned and shot an apologetic yet defiant look at her mom. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't deal with him right now," she announced before storming up to her room.

James snapped a look to his wife. "Anne! Didn't you talk to her?"

Anne frowned back at her husband as she crossed her arms. "She has a point, dear."

"What about my point? As a member of this family, she should pull her weight!" James' voice was dripping with affrontment.

"Of course, but so do our other two children. Why are Jim and Tim's used plates still here while they aren't?" Anne argued as she gestured to the offending cutlery on the other side of the dining table.

"I didn't ask them; I asked her. If I ask her to do something, she should do it!"

Anne sighed. "Like it or not, dear, we raised a fiercely independent young woman with a strong moral code. If she deems something unfair and she's standing up against it, maybe we should take her actions a little more seriously," she said as she gathered up some plates to take to the sink. "Now, please help me with the dishes."

With her back turned to him, Anne never noticed the spiteful look that passed over her husband's face. "If she's so self-reliant," James grumbled to himself as he followed after his wife, "then on herself she should rely."


End file.
